


the iron underneath

by thegoldenkittenking (empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, LITERALLY, Like, Queen Carol, Slow Burn, seriously slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart/pseuds/thegoldenkittenking
Summary: After Ezekiel’s death, Carol becomes the ruler of the kingdom. Daryl is Rick’s right hand man. They haven’t seen each other in months. This is how they fell apart and this is how they came back together. (Carol was never married to Ezekiel in any part of this story. He simply chooses her to rule.)





	1. an old scar

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a beautiful and poetic summary for this fic, and then had to immediately delete it because it sounded like Ezekiel married Carol. I am v upset about it because I loved it.   
> Anyway... enjoy.

Now  
Daryl hasn’t seen her in months. She’s as beautiful as ever, her silver hair glinting in the sun. The ever-present, oppressive sadness is gone-- or just well-hidden. It no longer weighs her down; she stands strong, shoulders set back. She looks more confident than he’s ever seen her. 

“Daryl.” It’s a statement. A queen acknowledging a servant, he thinks. He remembers how Ezekial used to play the part; kind and warm even yet he commandeered respect. She’s colder though, imperious. An ice queen. Daryl wonders where his Carol went, the one who was warm and kind even if it would kill her. He has an idea what she’d say: she was burnt away. 

Disappeared like ashes in the wind. 

He’s shy suddenly. Years have passed since he was shy around Carol. But he doesn’t know this Carol, as foreign to him as that woman he met in a quarry all those years ago. 

He inclines his head. It’s admission and respect. “Rick wants to work out a new trade agreement.” Daryl doesn’t include the fact he was sent only because Rick figured Daryl would be the best man for the job. Who else would Carol listen to?

She sits above him on the throne in the middle of the dark auditorium. Shiva is pacing next to her, still attached to the iron chain. Carol really did inherit everything. 

“Does he?” She gestures to Jerry. “Show him to a guest room. I’ll meet with you later, Daryl.” The way she says his name hurts. The way her voice softens. How the corner of her mouth quirks up, like she’s thinking of a joke she just remembered. Before his eyes she changes from the queen to Carol. The one whose daughter he saved. Who he used to joke around with at the Prison. Who hugged him like her life depended on it. His Carol.

He feels like shit. 

An attendant shows him to the guest quarters. It’s an agreement that will take days to work out all the details of. His room is just another curtained off classroom, but it has a bed and dresser. Not that he has any shit to put in it. His crossbow is set on top of the dresser, and he lays on the bed waiting for his summons. He doesn’t want to be here. Not at all. Not after he fucked everything up between them.

It’s his fault. It always is.  
***  
A few hours pass until one of the numerous Royal Attendants leads him to dinner with the Queen. Carol’s more than a queen though. Empress would be a better title. He keeps it to himself though, as he’s led across the inner yard to the Royal Quarters. It’s lavish, burgundies and golds everywhere. But it’s surprisingly sparse with personal effects. It’s like someone designed it with the thought of how a royal apartment should look. What’s expected of it.   
He’s led into the dining room, a feast is laid out on the table. Carol’s seated at the head. Daryl has a pretty good feeling he’s supposed to sit at the foot of the table, so he takes the seat to Carol’s right. Jerry scowls at him from across the room, and Daryl allows himself a small, private smile. 

She dismisses Jerry with a wave. “You shouldn’t needle him. Jerry thinks you don’t pay me enough respect.”

“Next time I’ll make sure ta curtsy.” Daryl grumbles out and starts to help himself. Alexandria’s low on food again and he hasn’t had a square meal in days. 

The corners of Carol’s mouth quirk up. An almost smile. Daryl can’t remember the last time she actually smiled at him. Before, probably. And then the queen is gone and is replaced by his Carol. 

“Now, what’s wrong with our current agreement?”

Daryl takes a bite of food before he answers. “Rick wants more food. Alexandria’s had a bad harvest, and we’re hurtin’.” It’s blunt but he’s never been one to mince words. If Rick wanted a diplomat, he should have sent Morgan.

Carol hums. Daryl waits for her to answer and munches his way through the rest of his food. 

Finally, Carol speaks. “What’s his offer?”

“Guns. Ammo. Lotsa ammo.” Eugene has perfected the way to make bullets and they are at a surplus for the first time since… ever, Daryl figures.

Carol’s quiet and he takes another bite of food. It’s really fucking good. 

“This is good. Ain’t as good as yers though.” He gestures to his plate with his fork. It’s one of the things he’s missed most about her. She could make anything taste good. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Her tone is regal, but her smile-- real and true holy fuck he’s missed those-- says otherwise. 

They sit in silence as they finish dinner. For the first time in ages, he’s alone with her. There’s always been someone else there, a barrier. All he can think about is the last time they were alone together. How silent tears streamed down her cheeks, silver in the moonlight. The hundreds of thousands of words that lay unspoken between them. Except for those three which he still wishes he could take back. Turn the clock back and never say them. He broke her heart and she broke his in return. Everything they ever were and ever would be broke apart in that moment. 

“Carol--” He starts, desperate. 

“Don’t. Daryl… Don’t. You can’t.” The words are steel, slicing down whatever he was about to say. He isn’t even sure what it was going to be. An apology? An excuse? A plea? Whatever it was, it would only break them further.

They finish dinner in silence. The air is thick with their unspoken words. He hates himself for ruining whatever bit of camaraderie they had left. 

He gets up to leave, when she speaks.

“Daryl.” He stops in his tracks, hoping and fearing. “I’ll think over the proposition. I must discuss this with the council, but I should have an answer within the next few days.”  
He nods and walks out. And keeps walking until it’s just him and the woods and the guilt he carries with him. 

Carol may be a stranger but he still loves her with his whole heart. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop.

***  
Before  
Carol walks out of the infirmary in a daze. She should have known. She should have realized. The constant attention Ezekiel’s been giving her, his insistence on her being the go between for Alexandria and the kingdom. And now he lay dying in the infirmary in Alexandria. 

She runs into Daryl, slamming into his chest. He grabs her gently by the arm and looks at her worriedly. “Are ya okay?”

“Ezekiel he’s been grooming me. For the Kingdom. When he dies, he wants me to take leadership. Be the queen. Daryl, I can’t.” She’s seen what leadership had done to Rick. The toll it’s had on him. Her own past is fraught with blood, what she’s had to do to protect the people she loves. And to carry the responsibility of hundreds of people? She can’t do it.

“Ya don’t have ta.”

“Daryl, he’s dying as we speak. I don’t think I have a choice.” There’s a hysterical edge to her voice. It’s been a grueling week of patrols and fighting and death. And all she really wants to do is lay face down on a bed and sleep for a month.

“Hey. Ya can do this. And I’ll be there. Every step of the way.”

She hugs him as they stand in the walkway of the infirmary. She whispers a “thank you” against his chest. This is not a moment they can afford to take, their both due in other places. The battle against the Saviors rages around them.

But for once she can breathe. Just for a moment, the world doesn’t seem as hopeless as it was.  
***  
Ezekiel survives the night, much to everyone’s surprise. Carol’s thankful. She hopes he makes it through this. And that she dies before him. She’s terrified to what leadership will do to her; she wants no part of it. 

Daryl and her down time line up, and they sit on the porch of Aaron and Eric’s house. Aaron brought them out sweet tea and then went for his shift on the wall. 

“Heard Zeke made it through the night.” Daryl says, bumping his shoulder into hers.

“Yeah. But I’m not out of the woods yet.”

“He’ll make it through. He has a fucking tiger.” Daryl always sounds a little impressed when he discusses Ezekiel’s companionship. “Also, ya can’t go off and be queen. Who else is gonna make acorn and beet cookies?”

“Shut up.” But a laugh escapes. “They aren’t that bad. Tobin appreciated them.”

“Fuck ‘im.” Daryl growls with an impressive scowl. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll always be my Pookie.” She bumps her shoulder into his in return. 

“Stop.” But a smile crinkles the corner of his mouth, even though he tries to hide it behind his curtain of hair. 

They sit in companionable silence until their break is up. They walk to Alexandria’s gate goes to quickly and then they’re standing facing one another. 

“Stay safe.” He says quietly. 

“Nine lives.” 

“Pretty sure ya’ve used a least six of ‘em.”

“Well, then I have three more.” She quips. It kills her to leave like this, but saying goodbye seems too final. Like a nod to fate. 

They walk out of the gate together and then leave to go their separate ways. She stops and watches him go, disappearing into the late afternoon sun.


	2. i used to need you, you used to need me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before: Carol and Daryl share a moment in the quiet, painful aftermath of a tragedy  
> Now: Daryl visits Shiva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tile from Allie X's song "Need You."

Before

Carol’s heard about what’s happened before he even enters the gate. Someone radioed it in. A part of her-- a small, ugly part-- is happy because it was them and not him.. Daryl’s one of the last good things in this world and perhaps the only good thing left in hers. Losing him would be unimaginable, and she isn’t sure if she could survive it. Not after she’s lost so much else. 

Daryl walks like a defeated man through the gate. Head down and shoulders slumped. Ashamed. He’s so impossibly sad. She knows he carries the guilt of every life lost on his shoulders. 

He stops in front of her, barely holding himself together. 

“Daryl.” It’s half-whispered. Carol reaches out and touches his arm lightly. Losing his entire team is something he’ll never get over. Not truly.

“‘S my fault. Made a bad call. Shouldn’t’ve…” He stops, voice breaking. What she wants to do is tell him it isn’t, no one could have known what his decision would bring about. But she knows what how hollow that sentiment rings. Especially when you don’t believe it yourself. 

Instead, she leads him inside and sits next to him on the couch. She lets him mourn, a luxury these days. There’s no time for emotions any more; just the constant struggle to stay a step ahead of Negan and the Saviors. So, she sits next to him quietly and lets him have this. It’s the only thing she can give him. Daryl won’t accept any comfort she gives him. 

The group he took out were mostly strangers to her. All from Hilltop. Carol’s only been there twice, to deliver ammo of messages. But Carol doesn’t need to know them to empathize with Daryl. The feeling of failing someone you’re responsible for is all too familiar for her. She wishes she could take away some of the hurt from him. It breaks her heart to see him like this.

Daryl sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Carol takes his hand and squeezes it. He doesn’t pull away, and they sit in silence on the couch in the group’s house.   
It’s a moment they both desperately need  
***  
Carol wakes up to the late afternoon sun streaming through the open blinds. Daryl’s asleep on her lap, looking peaceful for the first time in weeks. Her next shift doesn’t start until the next morning, but she isn’t sure when Daryl is on again. Maggie came up with the idea to rotate their militias, so there was always two teams who were at their respective residences. Breaks are still few and far between though and everyone is running on fumes. 

Carol watches him sleep. He looks peaceful. Relaxed. She strokes his hair, away from his face. It’s obscenely long now and she thinks-- not for the first time-- how badly she needs to cut both his and Carl’s hair. His hair is so soft though and she loves to run her fingers through it. 

She tries her best not to wake Daryl, but still he is up a few moments later, blinking and looking as tired as before. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, like he’s embarrassed to be found laying on her. He sits up quickly.

“Fuck. ‘M sorry.” Carol’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for, either falling asleep on her or crying.

“You needed it. We both did.” She’s haunted by nightmares and even when she manages to sleep it’s restless and short. 

“Hey. Ya talk to Zeke yet?” The more Ezekiel insists on being called king the more Daryl resists by calling him by a nickname. 

“Yeah. He wants me to reconsider.” She tried to explain to Ezekiel how she simply can’t take the responsibility of taking care of almost one hundred people, without delving into her past too much. 

“Didja tell him Rick would prolly take in the entire kingdom?” Daryl asks.

“I think that’s why he’s so insistent that I take over. He’s... “ Carol pauses trying to come up with the best word, “hesitant about Rick’s leadership abilities.”

“He kept us alive this long.” 

“I’m not arguing with that.” She owes her life to Rick, even with all their history together. And she knows she would hate to have his job. 

“Thanks.” Daryl murmurs. Carol knows he isn’t talking about Rick and Ezekiel anymore. 

“You’re welcome.”

Now

Carol’s Kingdom is different from Ezekiel’s. It’s harder in a way, but whether that’s from Carol’s leadership or just post-war attitudes, Daryl can’t tell. The choir’s gone and everyone ten and up is trained in combat. She’s also more open. There are no unknown side deals to keep peace here. Everyone knows every political move she makes. 

He’s exhausted from his night spent in the woods. Didn’t make it back until the early hours of the morning and then slept like shit. All he could think about was every mistake he’s ever made with Carol. How they ended up fucked up like this. 

There are clean clothes left outside his room. He forgoes a shower and pulls them on. Showers are communal here and there’s no way in hell he’s going to share shower space with someone else. He picks up his crossbow-- more out of habit than any real sense of a threat-- and heads over to the cafeteria. It’s bustling, even at this early morning hour. A few people nod or wave and the last thing he wants to do is have to make small talk with someone while he eats. Instead he picks up whatever he can carry-- bacon wrapped in a pancake-- and leaves to go and visit Shiva. Better company than most people. 

When he enters the room, Carol’s already there with a hand in between the bars scratching   
Shiva on the head.

“Ya keep doin’ that yer gonna lose a hand.” 

Carol looks up at him and gives him that almost half smile. “She knows who feeds her.” Still she pulls her hand out from the bars, and leans against them.

Daryl tosses a piece of bacon into the cage and stands across from Carol. He sets his crossbow down at his feet and eats his breakfast. Carol watches him, face unreadable.

“Heard about that council member who got bit. Sorry.” Rick came back with the news after a meeting last week. All Daryl knew about him was that Rick respected and liked him. 

Carol shrugs. “It’s life.” 

He knows she has to be hurting. Carol feels everything so greatly, even if she tries to hide it behind her cold demeanor. But he has no idea how to approach this version of her, how to comfort her if she even wanted it. So he drops it and let’s her pretend.

“How is everyone?” It’s a quiet question. He can’t imagine that it’s easy for her to be separated from her family. 

“Good. Judith’s gettin’ real big. So is baby Henry. Everyone’s doin’ good.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

They sit in silence. Daryl watches Shiva. She’s laying on her side and staring right back at him. He wonder if Carol comes to Shiva often. Talks to her about her day and plans; no one else is there to listen. A tiger’s better than nothing.   
“I have to go.” Carol says. “I should have an answer about the trade agreement tomorrow. Are you staying?”

“Yeah. Missed her.” He says gesturing towards Shiva. Missed you.

Carol nods and walks out. He watches her go. Fuck, it hurts.   
***  
Daryl spends the rest of his morning and afternoon hunting. Apparently he can’t have a single damn meeting with Carol without running into the woods. He’s ashamed, but he can’t help himself. Every time the speak it’s like that night over again. The shame and guilt and desperation. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he went back and apologized. If he decided not to let his shame and anger get the better of him.

There’s no point to this type of thought though. He fucked up and it’s in the past, he can’t change it. But maybe he can change the future. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter but I wanted to get this out before I go on vacation. I’ll have wifi but I’m not sure how much writing I’ll be able to get done.   
> Thank you for reading! I love to hear your opinions and views on this!


	3. the one i love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s been a week since my last update (whoops) so I hope this long(er) chapter makes up for it.  
> Summary  
> Before: Carol has a talk with Ezekiel and Daryl groups up with Carol, Tara, and Morgan (with some minor spoilers from the season 8 trailer)  
> Now: Daryl and Carol give their goodbyes and Daryl passes info along to Rick.

Now  
To see him again was a knife in her heart. A knife in her stomach. So physically painful she had to return to her rooms after the meeting to recover. 

After everything, she wanted to see him. Craved to see him. But she couldn’t. After everything she said, how could he ever want to see her again? Feel anything towards her but fear and loathing? 

Sometimes her life feels like it’s only ever been sadness and guilt. So she’s cultivated it, let it sit and fester, until she was cold and unfeeling. Until she could face every day without feeling that she'd fall apart at any given moment. And she was getting so good at it. She’s pretend and then go and dump all of her feelings on Shiva and then dry her eyes and get on with her life. 

And then Daryl showed up.

And she fell apart all over again.

Carol forgot. Forgot everything. How well he knows her. How he loves her. How she loves him. 

She can’t hide from him. And it terrifies her. 

There’s a hundred thousand things she wants to say. (i love you, forgive me, sorry sorry sorry) But she doesn’t say any of them. Instead she soaks him up, trying to memorize every inch of him before he disappears again. 

It’s over dinner when he’s trying to apologize (she can’t hear it, he’s done nothing wrong) does she realize she’s always loved him. 

And it kills her inside.  
***  
Her facade is falling apart. She craves him, and it’s getting harder to hide. She come up with a million and a half reasons to see him and doesn’t act on any of them. Her responsibility is to the Kingdom and her people. Not to him. 

So she’s found every reason to avoid him. Completing projects she’s put off for months and doing the mindless work she hates. It feels like she’s been more productive in the last three days than she has in the last month. Carol’s terrified she’ll do something stupid if she’s left alone with him too long, like run away with him to a secluded cabin in the woods. Or admit that she still loves him. It was unwise to have dinner with him that first night, it opened a door that she thought was firmly shut. 

Yet, she still can’t find it in her to send him away. Send him back to Rick and Alexandria. She wants to keep him here, with her, because fuck knows when she’ll see him again. Another year? Create more distance between the two of them that feels impossible to cross. She’s had an answer for Daryl since his first day at the Kingdom. The Council and the general populace of the Kingdom is still feeling indebted towards Rick and Alexandria after the war with the Saviors, so there was very little argument on increasing the amount of exports. Carol isn’t looking forward to the day when the goodwill between Alexandria and the Kingdom dissipates and she’s forced onto a side. 

Carol’s finally runs out of reasons to avoid giving Daryl the verdict. Still, she waffles for another half hour. Finally, she stops pacing and marches out, on a mission to find Daryl.  
Jerry stops her with a hearty, “Hey, Your Majesty.” 

“Do you know where Daryl is?” It’s abrupt and rude, but is she doesn’t get this done now, she’ll find another reason to keep Daryl here.

“Uh, yeah. Think he was heading to the archery range. Do you need me to come with you?” 

Carol shakes her head. “No. I’ll be fine.” Daryl would never lay a finger on her.

Daryl’s alone, shooting bolt after bolt into the practice targets. She wonders if he finds the repetition soothing.

She clears her throat, catching his attention. His face visibly brightens when he sees her and it makes her heart hurt all over again. He set his crossbow down on one of the low benches near the entrance and stands near her.

“Ya have an answer?” He asks. 

“We accept this change in the previous agreement. We haven’t had the best year either, but we’ll do what we can. Tell Rick I’ll meet with him in the next few days to work out all the details.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll pass it along.” 

They stand in silence. There’s nothing else for her to say, but she doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. 

Daryl finally breaks the silence. “Should prolly head out soon. ‘S gettin’ late.”

Carol nods. He waits though and looks like he wants to say something. She wants to offer him a reason to stay and she has a feeling he’d take it. But neither say anything and Daryl turns to leave.

“It was real good to see ya.” He says. 

“It was good to see you to.” Daryl nods and offers her a smile. She watches him walk away.

Carol hopes she’ll see him again. 

 

Before  
“Why me?” It’s been eating away at her. Carol hasn’t asked-- hasn’t thought to ask-- why Ezekiel chose her out of everyone. 

Ezekiel is up and lucid for the first time in a week. After her confrontation with him last week,   
Ezekiel took a turn for the worst and put Carol into an almost blind panic. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive him if he dies.

He looks at her, regally. Even when he’s recovering from a gunshot wound he still looks like a damn king. “You’re the best choice.”

“That’s not a fucking answer. Why me?” 

He ignores her outburst and turns to look out the window. He’s been moved to one of the bedrooms, there’s nowhere to recover in Alexandria’s makeshift infirmary. That’s saved for the truly sick. 

“You care. More than anyone. Every person you come across you look after. No matter how hard you fight it, you can’t stop. I want to leave my legacy in the hands of someone like that. Not someone who wants glory or does it out of duty. Every decision you’ll make will be with my people’s best interest at heart. Even if they’re hard decisions. You’re stronger than you think.”  
Carol sits in silence, digesting the information. She hasn’t felt strong in years. Felt like she was slowly disintegrating, yes. Little pieces of herself falling off and scattering in the wind. But strong isn’t something she’s felt since the prison. 

“I can’t care for people like that. Not anymore.” It’s the truest thing she’s ever told Ezekiel.

“I don’t think you get to choose whether or not you get to care. You either do or you don’t. And Carol, you care. You came back. Why?” The question is rhetorical. She came back because separation was worse. And they needed her. 

“I’m not dead yet. However if I do--”

“Don’t.” She states and stands up to leave. Carol’s done with this conversation. He doesn’t have to ask if she will, they both know her answer. When has she ever been able to abandon people who need her?

Now  
Daryl arrives back at Alexandria late. It’s dark out but with winter fast approaching, it’s hard to tell what time it is. But it’s at least two hours since he left the Kingdom. He swung by Hilltop to check in on Maggie and baby Henry. Every other day he goes to see them, feels like he owes Glenn that much. 

He doesn’t turn on any of the lights in the house he shares with Rick, Michonne, and the kids.   
Doesn’t wanna wake anyone up. 

He’s quietly tiptoeing through the living room when a tiny voice asks, “Uncle Daryl?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Holy shit Judith. What’re ya doin’?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Can I sleep in your bed?” She’s three and a half now. Sometimes Daryl can’t believe she’s the same baby he fed in the Prison all those years ago.

“Sure.” Judith holds her arms up to him and he scoops her up. Her head rests against his shoulder and he grunts.

“Yer gettin’ to big to do this.”

“Nuh-uh.”

He chuckles a bit and by the time he reaches his room Judith’s fast asleep. Daryl sets her gently on the bed and goes about his nightly routine. During the war, when he and Carol were so exhausted they could hardly move, they’d end up sleeping in this bed together, Judith tucked between them. Judy hated being left behind and clung to anyone who’d come home. Carol especially. He wonders if Judith remembers any of that. Maybe that’s why she always chooses to sleep in the same bed as him, even over Rick and Michonne. 

Daryl climbs into bed and listens to Judith breathing. He tries to focus on that instead of all the emotions he’s repressed over the last few days. When they said their goodbyes earlier at the Kingdom, he almost told Carol he missed her. 

Almost  
***

Judy’s gone by the time he wakes up. From the faint smell of pancakes that’s wafted through the house, he figures Judith’s coerced someone into cooking her pancakes. Pancake mix is one of the few food items they have a shitton of. Ten giant boxes of it were found in the basement of some house, and now it’s their number one export.

Daryl sleepily stumbles his way downstairs where he finds Rick flipping pancakes. 

“Daddy’s making my pancakes.” Judith announces once she sees him.

“See that kiddo.”

“How’d it go? With Carol?” Rick asks, serving Judith a stack of pancakes.

“Good. She wants to meet with ya sometime this week. Work out the details.” 

Rick nods. “I want you to come.”

He’d really rather not. “Sure. If ya want me to.”

“Good. Good. I’ll send a request over to meet in two days.” 

Daryl nods. 

Hasn’t seen her in fourteen months and now he sees her four times in one week. 

Before

Daryl’s sitting at his bike while Tara and Carol sit against the low concrete wall on the overpass. They’re waiting for Morgan to come back from setting up traps for the Saviors. The worst part of war is the waiting. Everything else he can deal with-- the violence, the death, the constant anxiety-- but the waiting does him in. It’s the only time where he isn’t distracted by something else.

Tara’s working on a book of crosswords while Carol’s lost in thought. He’s worried about Carol. She talked with Ezekiel earlier and she been quiet since. Daryl’s afraid she’s pulling away again, and he wants to ask what happened. But he’s also afraid to push and upset her more. So instead he sits and broods and worries. Not fucking helpful at all.

Carol bites her lip, looking off in the direction Morgan went. “Someone shoulda gone with him.” 

“Didn’t want no one.” He says. Morgan insisted on going off and doing it by himself, saying the others would just slow him down and it was easier for him alone to slip in and out.

“Still.” 

Tara interrupts. “He’s fine. What’s a five letter word for light purple starting with the letter m?” 

“Mauve.” Carol says. 

“Fuck. How do you spell that?” Tara asks, frantically erasing and rewriting.

“M-A-U-V-E” Daryl responds. At first he thought the crosswords were a waste of time, but now he envies the distraction. Better than sitting around and stressing to the point of giving yourself an ulcer. 

“You guys are good at this.” Tara works through the next few clues as they wait. 

Daryl’s just about to ask if they should go look for Morgan when he come jogging up the overpass. 

“Got it all. Should head back before they catch up with us.” 

They get up and dust themselves off. Daryl catches Carol’s eye and gestures for her to come here.

“You okay?” He mutters.

“I’m fine.” She must notice his expression. “Really. Just tired. Ready to be done with this.” 

“See you at Alexandria?” He asks.

 

“Yep. I’ll have dinner ready. Have fun with Rick.” She gives him a tiny wave and joins Tara and Morgan at the SUV. Daryl’s supposed to meet with Rick for a tactics discussion, but he’s much rather do with Carol back to Alexandria and talk to her. There’s more to what she says. He knows there is. 

But he has to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! These poor fluffs, they’re so silly. I love them so.   
> Anyway, comments are wonderful and amazing and if you leave one you’ll get added to my favorite persons list.


	4. it has to end to begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now-- Daryl and Rick meet up with Carol to discuss their new agreements.  
> Before: Rick has news for the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Title comes from Sia’s “Numb.” A bit of an inspiration for this chapter.

Now  
"Ya ready?" Daryl asks. 

"Yeah. Michonne and Aaron are staying behind to hold things down here. I know how things have been between the two of you--"

Daryl cuts him off. "Don't matter. Sent me anyway. And yer makin' me come to this on too." 

"You're the best man for the job. You and Carol..." Rick stops, must've noticed the look on Daryl's face. "You two are different. You have a history." 

You'd have to be blind not to see their "history." Daryl gets it though. If Carol has a soft spot for anyone it's him. And maybe Asskicker. Rick should just bring Judith along. Accomplish the same shit as he does.

Rick and him load up in the SUV and they head to the empty apartment building. It was chosen as a neutral place between the Kingdom, Hilltop, and Alexandria. On no one's land but they are all in charge of keeping it clear and safe. It's a perfect place for a meeting like this. No home field advantage. 

Daryl taps his finger against the car door as the drive.

"So I was thinkin' about how much we should offer to the Kingdom." Rick begins. Rick's been wanting to talk strategy with Daryl for the last few days and he's not interested. Hates this shit. 

Daryl shrugs. "Whatever shit we have extra." 

"Tara found that armory on the run last week, brought back all sorts of guns. We have some to spare.”

“Yeah. Have all that ammo from Eugene and whatever the hell his setup is.” 

Rick pauses a moment, thinking. “You’ll think she’ll take it?”

“Dunno.” He gnaws on the skin next to his thumbnail.

“You sure? She didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope.” 

Rick ceases the conversation and they drive in silence. Daryl looks out the window. Every time he sees her it hurts. Reopening the same old wounds over and over again. He doesn’t want to see her again, watch her be cold and unfeeling when he knows she’s anything but that. Longs for the days when they could just be. Not together, like they were for those brief few months, but like how they were before. Where they could tease and joke and just be in one another’s presence. Where they no longer step in a room they leave it with old hurt feelings and longings and what-ifs. 

They pull up to the old apartment building. No other cars are there, the Kingdom representatives aren’t here yet. Rick uses the extra time to finalize the offers for the trade deal.

Rick opens the door and then stops and turns to him. “Does she still care about us?”

Daryl’s baffled. How could he ask some dumb shit like that? Rick’s the one who’s spent the last year and a half working with her. “Course she does.”

A Jeep pulls up next to them and Carol and her retinue climb out. Daryl shuts the car door behind him and walks up behind Rick. Jerry smiles and waves at Daryl, his transgression of disrespecting Carol forgiven. The Kingdom’s group follows them in. Weapons are placed in the bins and on the hooks next to the door. Better to not have them on your person if an argument breaks out. 

Dary looks around the room, a shiver running up his spine. Something seems… off. Like this place has been disturbed somehow. Daryl really wants his crossbow back. Rick and Carol stand around the table in the middle of the mostly bare room. Daryl takes position near the lone   
window, facing towards the table. 

He eyes his crossbow through the meeting as Rick and Carol go back and forth. The hair on the   
back of his neck is rising, and he’s constantly checking of his shoulder. For what he isn’t sure, but he has the persistent feeling that someone’s been here.

Carol and Rick break and Daryl takes his crossbow off the hook and goes up to the second floor. Needs to check every room to ease his anxiety. There’s no one here, he just feels off. Probably from seeing Carol, stirred up a bunch of emotions or some shit. Hilltop, Alexandria, and the Kingdom all send patrols out to this area. Keep it clear from walkers and squatters. 

The first four apartments are quiet. Picked clean. They sent groups through to clear out furniture and any supplies they could find. It’s eerie, to see a living space so empty. Never seems quite right.

The first four apartments turn up nothing unusual. The fifth has its door ajar. Something inside is scuffling around. He opens the door slowly, crossbow raised. He inches closer to the kitchen, heart pounding. Crosses the threshold, finger on the trigger, aimed to shoot… and comes face to face with Carol.

“Jesus. Almost shot ya.” He says, lowering his crossbow.

She lowers her rifle. “Sorry. Should have known you’d come through to.”

“Feels wrong, don’t it?” Figures Carol would notice.

“Yeah. Like someone’s been through here.”

“Could just be survivors lookin’ for a place to stay.”

“Could be.” She says but she looks doubtful. He doesn’t believe it himself. 

There’s an unspoken agreement they’ll check the next three floors together. They hardly speak and just check each apartment and walk the halls. 

“Do ya think we can go back?” He asks quietly. They’re walking the third floor, checking each and every room. He forgot how easy it is for them to work together. Like they exist on the same wavelength-- know one another’s actions before they even attempt it.

“No.” It’s final, but sad.

“Not like… that. But… I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I missed ya. Miss ya as my friend.” He says quietly to his feet. Carol’s staring at him a look of surprise flitting over her face. Rick and Aaron and Michonne are fine, but they aren’t Carol. No one has ever understood him like Carol.

“Maybe.” Her face softens. 

Daryl nods. Maybe’s good. Ain’t a no.

“I missed it to. Our friendship.” Carol says to the painting over his left shoulder.

“Could meet every Thursday for coffee.” 

He can see a hint of a smile on her lips. “You know when it’s Thursday?”

“Just a week after the last one.” 

Carol’s actually smiling know, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Don’t be smart with me. I’m the Queen.”

Daryl snorts. “Sure are.” 

They finish up their search in silence and turn up nothing. No suspicious things left behind. No doors left open. No signs of living at all. Just quiet, empty space. But there’s still a lingering feeling that someone’s been here. 

“Nothin’.” He mutters when they get to the last apartment. 

“Nothing.” Carol echoes. She sighs and turns around to head out the door. He follows her, shouldering his crossbow.

They walk down the stairs side-by-side. “Think I’m gonna send more patrols up this way.” 

“Yeah. Gonna ask Rick and the Council to send ‘em more often too.” 

They put up their crossbow and rifle and Carol joins Rick for more deliberations. Daryl takes up the same spot against the wall and listens to their discussion. Rick’s trying to get everything he can out of the Kingdom, although the Kingdom still doesn’t still have a full armory, Alexandria’s food situation is much more dire. Maggie and Hilltop are doing everything they can, but it isn’t enough. The Kingdom-- with the biggest harvest, even if it’s smaller than usual-- is their only hope.

It’s agreed that the Kingdom-- in exchange for three rifles, two shotguns, an assortment of handguns, and a third of the ammo production for the next three months-- will send over half of their surplus food and a quarter of what they produce and find over the few months. Daryl has a feeling Carol’s going easy on them. She’s striking a deal that puts her and the Kingdom at a disadvantage; she has a soft spot for Alexandria. How could she not? Rick’s question of “Does she care?” echoes through his mind. 

They collect their respective guns and Daryl’s crossbow and they walk to their cars. Carol’s opening her door when she calls out, “I’m looking forward to coffee on Thursday.”

He smiles at her. “Me too.” 

Rick’s looking at him confused and Daryl shrugs. They watch the Kingdom’s Jeep pull away and then they climb into the SUV.

Their halfway home when Rick asks, “What do’ya think? About the offer.”

“Shoulda offered some of that pancake mix up. I’m fuckin’ sick of ‘em.”

Rick lets out a chuckle. “Maybe we’ll give ‘em some anyway. A gift of goodwill.”

Before  
All the bedrooms are being used. Five different teams from Alexandria and the Kingdom are off-duty and every bed and couch seems to already have someone on them. All Daryl wants to do is sleep. Or just lay down. On any flat surface.

He would just go and lay down on the floor in the living room but Tara’s already staked it out. Michonne and Carol are in Rick and Michonne’s room and there’s someone from the Kingdom in Daryl’s. Father Gabriel is passed out on the couch and Daryl’s pretty fucking certain someone’s napping in the tub downstairs. Not that he can blame them. 

He climbs the stairs and opens the door to the room across from Rick’s. Carol looks up from the bed, bleary-eyed. Judith’s tucked into her side. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” Carol asks as he slips of his shoes and his vest.

“Some fucker from the Kingdom’s in it.” He responds without any real venom in his voice. 

Carol simply scoots over and tugs the slumbering Judith closer to her. 

“She hates it when we leave.” Carol says when he slips into bed next to her. 

“Don’t blame ‘er.” 

Carol watches him from under heavily lidded eyes. “Mmmm.” Carol hums in agreement.

Daryl’s starting to drift off when he remembers. “Rick’s calling a meeting this evening. Wants to talk about…” His exhausted brain searches for the right word. “Stuff.” 

“Sounds great.” She mumbles. 

Daryl listens to her breathing even out as he falls asleep.

Sleeping next to Carol is always easier.  
***  
Carol’s still exhausted. Even after sleeping for five hours. Daryl’s sitting on his side of the bed,   
looking just as tired as she feels. Runs a hand over his face and sighs. 

“Sleep well?” She asks. 

“Yeah. Don’t feel like it though. Wish we had coffee.”

Carol picks up Judith from the bed and she nestles herself into Carol’s shoulder.

“Gonna bring her?” Daryl asks. He’s puts his boots back on, but leaves his laces untied.

“We’re just meeting in the kitchen, I’ll put her in her room. You should tie those. You’re going to trip.”

He huffs and bends down to tie the laces. She can see a hint of a smile though.

She leaves to put Judith down in her own room. Judith’s room has the most personality of any other. Everyone who goes on a supply run has a tendency to bring something back to her, whether it be clothes or toys. Judith’s Alexandria’s spoiled little princess. She’ll be absolute hell in a few years and Carol doesn’t envy Rick one bit. 

She goes to set Judith down in her crib. Judith tightens her little hands on Carol’s shirt and lets out a sleepy-- yet demanding-- “no.” Carol has a feeling if she tries to press the issue she’ll have a tantrum on her hands, and she’s just too tired to deal with it. Sophia was the same way. There was a span of four months where she refused to be put down.

They walk down the stairs to their kitchen. It’s where Rick hold the more exclusive meetings, the ones he doesn’t want everyone to be privy to. Michonne’s there along with Aaron and Gabriel.

“Just us?” Carol asks and stands next to the fridge.

“Tara’s not here yet.” Michonne says. “Still sleeping on the floor.” 

“I’ll get ‘er.” Daryl says and walks into the living room. A few minutes later he comes back with an exhausted looking Tara.

“He kicked me.” Tara says and sits at one of the stools at the island. She lays her head down on the marble countertop and closes her eyes.

“Did not. Just nudged ya.” Daryl grumbles and stands next to Carol. “Where’s Rick?”

Michonne shrugs. “Don’t know. Should be here soon.” 

Rick walks in a moment later. “I have news.”

“Good news?” Carol asks, stifling a yawn. All news lately is bad or turns out bad. 

Rick nods. “Think we’re close. Negan’s starting to fall apart. Hilltop and the Kingdom’s raid on their supply outposts went well. Really well. They’re beginning to break.”

“Now we just gotta get Negan?” Daryl asks. 

Carol hopes this is true. That they really are close. It’s been a long and arduous fight. One that’s taken it’s toll-- emotionally and physically. She doesn’t even care how it ends. Just that it does. 

“Yeah.” Rick says. He turns and watches her for a moment. “Carol? I need you.”

Now  
Carol slowly peels off her armor, setting it carefully on her dresser. As ridiculously lavish as her apartments are-- Ezekiel too the pretense of being king very seriously-- her bedroom is sparse.   
A bed, a desk, and a dresser. They aren’t the reds and golds of the rest of her rooms. The walls are plain white along with the desk and dresser. The only thing that holds any color in her rooms is her bedspread-- blue with flowers that reminded her of Cherokee Roses. Self-indulgent but she needed something to remind herself of him. 

The Council won’t be happy with the deal she cut with Rick. She’s sure of this. As much as they are happy and willing to give Alexandria the much needed food, they’ll say it’s too much. And they’re not wrong. To watch her family-- her once family, she corrects herself-- starve isn’t something she can let happen. Carol will try and dress it up the best she can, but it will fall flat. 

Hopes she can deal with the fall out. 

Carol pulls on her pajamas-- shorts and a tank top-- and sits on her bed. Daryl asking for them to be friends again nearly broke her. Like she could ever deny him, especially when she’s craved it so much. 

She climbs into bed even though she knows it will be another sleepless night.

Carol thinks back over the day and takes a mental note to send more patrols to the apartment complex. Something was definitely off there, even if her and Daryl found nothing. Worries about it even though there’s very little for her to do about it besides increasing patrols and telling every group that goes out to stay aware and be careful. 

It doesn’t stop her from thinking about it for the rest of the night.   
***  
The Council takes her agreement with Rick as well as expected. They aren’t happy, but are willing to overlook this. Carol has a decent record with governing-- it’s easy, do everything the opposite of Rick-- and they trust her judgment. On her later nights, though, she wonders what happens if she fucks up too many times. If she’ll get some sort of, post-apocalyptic small-scale French Revolution bullshit. 

Carol tries not to think on it too much. 

They sent the first shipment of food to Alexandria yesterday. Rick should be sending over the promised guns and ammo within the next few days. She hopes that once Rick’s promises come through the Council will be a little more content. 

Carol stops one of the men from the patrol groups. “Did you check out the rendezvous point? The old apartment building?” She’s increased patrols there after the meeting. Everything felt too wrong for her to ignore it. 

“Uh yeah. Daryl Dixon is here looking for you. Says he found something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> We’ve moved into the ~plot~ for the story. I’m v excited!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!   
> I wrote this in four hours. Fifteen hundred words usually takes me four days. I was v inspired.   
> I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
